


Card Games and Motorcycles

by Supersteffy



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Car Accidents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 23:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9294221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supersteffy/pseuds/Supersteffy
Summary: Marik signed himself and Bakura up for a night of hanging out with the Friendship Squad, but when an accident occurs in the middle of his route from work and Marik is late, Bakura fears the worst. One-Shot. Rated T for cursing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to sita bethel for beta'ing!

Bakura stood in Ryou’s kitchen, boiling a kettle for tea and trying to avoid the Friendship Squad as much as possible. He hoped Marik would hurry and get there already. He was sick of having to make idle chit chat with those dimwits. It was all Marik’s fault he was there, anyway. If he hadn’t promised Ryou they’d hang out more, Bakura would never be in this situation to begin with.

“ _Holy shit_! Bakura, ya gotta come out and see this, man!”

Bakura rolled his eyes at Joey’s exclamation. They’d been watching the Domino City Dueling Championship for the past two hours, and they’d been making excited commentary every time one of the duelists pulled off a move even remotely impressive. It had gotten to the point that Bakura had made a drinking game of it, thus why he needed more tea.

He’d been initially surprised to find that the King of Games hadn’t entered himself, but apparently he’d grown weary of the number of people challenging him to duels on the street and taken a break from the dueling scene. At least, that’s what he claimed. Bakura suspected it had more to do with the game reminding him too much of his precious, late-Pharoah. Personally, Bakura thought the game lacked intensity when you factored out the life or death stakes of a Shadow Game.

“Bakura, you really need to get out here,” Téa called.

“I’m making tea.”

“Forget the tea, Bakura,” Ryou replied. “There’s a breaking news bulletin.”

Bakura sighed, but went to go see what all the fuss was about. He savagely hoped a riot had broken out at the stadium and the finals would be canceled.

Smirking to himself, he slid onto the sofa’s arm beside Ryou, as far from Yugi and his band of cheerleaders as possible. Then he focused on the television and his eyes widened.

The strobe of police lights and paparazzi flickered over the room, painting their faces intermittently red, blue, and white as Bakura gaped in horror at the scene on the television. Cars were on fire and piled up as far as the eye could see. Bodies were being pulled from cars, many screaming in agony while others lay tellingly silent. Without realizing it, Bakura began to shake as the phantom smell of burnt flesh superimposed itself on the scene.

“... _heart of downtown Domino, where just moments ago a tragic car accident occurred near the Sakura-Midway intersection. As you can see behind me, the fire department is attempting to evacua--Jeez!”_

The camera shook and the reporter braced herself as a minor explosion went off in the background. The immediate area around the fire looked to have been cleared, but the subsequent bursts of flame had people screaming even more.

“ _P-police say the crash happened when a car ran a red light, cutting off the gas tanker you see behind me. The tanker had been going the posted 40 kmph when it crashed head on into the cement traffic barrier to avoid the car, exploding on impact. The massive pileup resulting from the crash has affected traffic in all directions.”_

Firemen were attempting to put out the flames now that the area had been evacuated, but they couldn’t seem to get close enough in all the congestion. Realizing this, police and firemen began trying to clear a path, pushing cars out of the way. It looked to be a losing battle since there wasn’t much room to push them.

_"Having evacuated the blasting zone, police and medical personnel are still retrieving people from the cars further out. So far there has been reported thirty-three with minor injuries, nineteen in critical condition, and forty-seven dead, including a motorist who was caught in the initial blast.”_

The camera zoomed in behind the reporter to where the action was taking place. Bakura noticed the motorcycle in question lay beside the still-exploding truck in a crumpled, burnt heap, and had the sudden urge to vomit.

 _No,_ he thought.

_"Although no names have been released, one officer commented that of the deceased so far recovered, all but the motorist have been identified, since both the body and ID were burned beyond recognition. More to come as the situation unfolds.”_

His brain locked up. If he hadn’t already been sitting, his knees would have buckled. The motorcycle on the screen was a bright red, but that didn’t mean anything. Red was a common color.

“That’s a damn shame,” Joey said. The others murmured their agreement.

“Bakura, are you alright?”

Bakura flinched at Ryou’s question. “I-I-I” His lips felt numb.

“You’re breathing rather hard--and you’re trembling,” Ryou added, placing a hand over the one sitting in Bakura’s lap. Bakura shot to his feet.

“Where’s my phone? I need to call Marik.” He frantically slapped at his jeans before rushing to where his coat hung on the wall.

“He was coming here from work, right?” Téa asked. “He would take Herst, wouldn’t he?”

Bakura ignored her, cursing that he had no new messages saying Marik was on his way. Then again, maybe he got held up and wasn’t out yet…

“Bakura, I’m sure Marik’s fine,” Yugi consoled. “He's probably on his way now.”

Again Bakura ignored them, speed dialing Marik’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Fuck,” he growled.

“If he’s at work still, his phone will be turned off,” Tristan pointed out.

Bakura paced, trying not to panic. “They mentioned a motorist. The motorcycle they showed is red, just like Marik’s.”

“Tha’ don’t mean anythin’. Lot’a people have red motorbikes,” Joey said, echoing Bakura's earlier thoughts.

“You’re right.” Bakura carded a hand through his hair and held it, closed his eyes and focused on just breathing.

“Here, sit down,” Ryou instructed, pulling Bakura by the arm. For once, he didn’t have the will to argue. “I’ll go finish that tea.”

Bakura stared at the floor, an image of Marik forming in his mind: hair crisp, skin blistered and red. Burned, twisted, bloody, unrecognizable. Just like his people when the Pharaoh's men were through with them.

Bakura didn’t notice he was hyperventilating until Téa’s hand was on his shoulder, trying to comfort him. A part of him wanted to fling her hand away, scream at her that he didn’t need her pity--because that was definitely pity in her ocean-blue eyes--but another part wanted any comfort it could get, even from _them_.

It seemed an eternity before Ryou returned with the tea. He handed it to Bakura, but Bakura just stared at it, his emotions reflecting starkly back at him in the sepia liquid.

No one paid any more attention to the tournament, but when the news flashed back on with an update, all eyes glued to the screen.

_"...with an update on the Sakura-Midway tanker accident. Five more survivors have been recovered, as well as three more dead. As you can see behind me, the fire has been put out. Traffic is still gridlocked for several blocks, but authorities are working with local tow trucks to try and clear the streets. For those of you just joining us…”_

Bakura tuned her out. “Perhaps I’ll call again.”

So he did. Again, it went straight to voicemail. This time Bakura decided to leave a message.

“What bloody use is a phone if you don’t answer it? Call me as soon as you get this.”

Hanging up, Bakura fiddled aimlessly with the phone as he rose and began pacing again. He could feel all the others watching him, but he couldn’t have cared less what they thought.

“Maybe try texting him?” Yugi suggested.

“Right.” Waking the phone back up, Bakura swiped a quick “Why aren’t you here yet? Call me!” before resuming his fretful stride.

“Your tea’s getting cold,” Ryou observed.

“Fuck the tea.”

“Bakura, sit down and finish your tea before you wear a hole in my floor.”

Bakura growled but took a seat next to Ryou. He drank the tea in two large glugs before pressing redial and leaving another voicemail.

“Marik, pick up the fucking phone and call me back!”

“He’s probably just stuck in traffic,” Téa soothed. “They said it’s backed up for several streets.”

“If he was going to be late he’d call or text.”

“Well, maybe he…”

Bakura didn’t want to listen to their theories on why Marik was late. He had a horrible, world-shattering feeling he already knew, and every minute that ticked by made it worse. Them prattling on at him wasn’t helping.

Neither did the constant voicemails and texts Bakura made over the next half hour.

They started out with “Seriously, Marik! Call me back. This is urgent!” and gradually grew into “You need to get here _right. Now._ Because I’m freaking the fucking out here! Please, please, _please_ call me back!” before escalating to “Marik Ishtar, you son of a bitch! If you don’t walk through that _fucking door right now_ I’m going to kill you myself when I see you!”. He finally had to stop when a female voice regrettably informed him that the mailbox was full.

Growling in frustration, Bakura turned and stared helplessly at all the pairs of eyes doing the same right back. He didn’t like not knowing, but not being able to _act_ was worse.

“I’m going out to find him.”

“Bakura, no,” Téa said, while Joey shouted, “He could be anywhere!”

But Bakura was already swinging on his black duster. “I can’t just sit here! I need to see for myself if--”

Bakura stopped as the door opened. There stood Marik, grinning as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Bakura rounded on him before the door had even closed.

“ _Where the hell have you been_?!” Bakura bellowed. Marik opened his mouth to respond, but Bakura cut him off. “I have been calling you for over _forty fucking minutes_ , and it keeps going straight to voicemail!”

Marik’s smile faded and he huffed, hand on his hip. “Jeez, Bakura! Chill out! My phone died at work. I would have been here sooner, but there was a crazy-huge accident in the middle of my route. It took me forever just to--Bakura?”

Marik stopped his rant when Bakura’s arms latched onto him like a vice. “I know there was a damned accident, you idiot! The TV reporter said a motorcyclist was incinerated when the gas truck blew up an-and I-I-I…” The rest of the words fell away as Bakura fell to his knees, sobbing against Marik’s stomach.

Marik froze, stunned, a worried crease on his brow. He’d never seen Bakura cry before.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Marik said, one hand squeezing Bakura’s shoulder while the other combed through his frazzled hair.

“...sawtheredbike...couldn’tidentify...brokenandburntand _dead_ …” Bakura’s words were muffled gibberish in Marik’s shirt.

“Calm down. I can barely understand you. Come here.” He pulled Bakura to his feet and held his face. Bakura's jaw was tight and his eyes and cheeks were red and puffy. Although Marik pretended not to notice, the look nearly undid him. “Now let’s try that again.”

More tears streamed down Bakura’s face as he brought his hands to hold Marik’s in place.

“I-I just...They couldn’t ID the motorist and his bike looked like yours and I was so worried and-you-were-late-and-you’re- _never_ -late-andallIcoulddowaspictureyoudeadandonfire!”

Bakura was gasping for breath. Marik rushed him to the sofa. “Hey, look at me. I’m right here. Everything’s fine! I’m not dead, I’m right here.”

“But you _could_ have been! You could have, and I can’t go back to being a-a-alone. I jussst can’t!” Bakura sank into himself. “I already had my world destroyed once; I can’t go through that again.”

Despite his best efforts, Marik felt himself tearing up, and when he looked around the room, he wasn’t the only one.

“Aw, maaaaan,” Joey wailed, tears streaming. He threw his arms around Tristan, who was also crying. “Ya ain’t alone! We can be yer new family.”

“Yeah,” Tristan agreed. “You can hang out with us anytime! Even if Marik dies.”

“ _Tristan_ ,” Téa and Yugi hissed.

“And you know I’ll be here for you,” Ryou added with a watery smile.

Wiping the moisture from Bakura’s cheeks, Marik pulled him close and simply held him until his breathing returned to normal.

Bakura closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Marik's with a sigh. His hand captured one of Marik's to twist their fingers together.

“If I hadn't lost my mind millennia ago, I'd swear you were driving me crazy,” Bakura murmured.

Marik laughed at that and Bakura's jaw loosened with a small smile.

After a moment, Bakura pulled back and noticed everyone watching them, goofy fucking smiles on their faces. His cheeks flared up.

“What the fuck are you grinning at? Watch your stupid tournament.”

They did, but the ridiculous expressions only grew bigger as the tears evaporated.

“Come on,” Marik said, scooting Bakura over so he could sit beside him. “I’ve already missed most of the action.”

Ryou sat down on his other side, sandwiching Bakura between him and Marik. Bakura studiously ignored the glances Joey and the others flicked his way.

The finals ended up lasting far longer than anticipated, the match ending in a draw that had to be settled with a sudden death. Bakura closed his eyes and laid his head on Marik’s shoulder, not giving a damn about anything except that he could still do that. He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a loud round of cheering startled him from his sleep. The match was over, and with it, the tournament.

“Wow, what a great comeback!” Joey commented with a noisy stretch.

“Yeah,” Téa agreed.

Yugi nodded. “That trap card combo was incredible!”

Bakura rolled his eyes and nuzzled further into Marik’s shoulder.

“Oi, Bakura. Ya missed the whole finale!”

“Oh, dear,” he grumbled back, not bothering to open his eyes. “However shall I go on?”

Marik chuckled. “Don’t worry, I TiVo’d it. We can watch it together later.”

“I’d rather slit my throat with a trading card.”

“Waste of a good trading card,” Tristan muttered. Joey guffawed.

Bakura sat up and glared at them. “Fuck you.”

“No need ta get like that,” Joey scolded. “Besides, you’d think you’d be in a better mood after yer nap.”

“Yeah,” Tristan agreed. “We would have woken you for the end of the match, but you looked so cute sleeping on Marik’s shoulder.”

Bakura grit his teeth. “Keep talking and it’ll be _your_ throats I slit.”

“They’re just teasing you,” Téa said, her friendly smile making Bakura’s frown deepen.

 “So who wants to play a game?” Yugi asked, changing the subject.

“As long as it isn’t Duel Monsters,” Bakura muttered.

“Ooooh! We should play pictionary!” Ryou exclaimed.

Téa beamed. “I haven’t played that in years!”

“Pictionary?” Bakura asked. “Does the excitement never cease?” Marik bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Hold on, I’ll be right back!” Ryou ran into his game room down the hall.

Bakura rubbed his eyes. “How much longer are we staying?”

“Well, we can’t very well leave yet,” Marik said reasonably. “I just got here.”

“Besides, you guys can’t miss Pictionary,” Ryou put in as he rejoined the group.

“Yeah, Bakura,” Marik purred. “We can’t miss Pictionary.”

“I hate you so much,” Bakura growled back.

As the others began unboxing the game, Bakura spotted a series of cards that were printed off a computer rather than part of the original game. Grabbing a few of them out of curiosity, he cackled as he read them.

“Ryou, why do you have dirty pictionary cards?”

A slight blush spread across Ryou's cheeks. “Well, I had a friend ask me to help plan her bachelorette party, so I had us play PRICK-tionary.”

Tristan grabbed some more of the laminated, white paper ‘cards’ from the box as Ryou continued to set up the board. “We should use these! Normal pictionary is boring.”

“Yeah, this’ll be way more fun,” Joey agreed.

“Seriously?” Téa sent them disapproving looks.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t,” Bakura argued, eyeing Téa slyly. “After all, we wouldn’t want to offend Téa’s modest sensibilities.”

Téa’s chin stuck out stubbornly. She ripped the cards from Bakura’s hands. “Just because I don’t curse constantly or want to talk about sex all the time doesn’t mean I’m a prude.”

 “Never said it did,” Bakura replied easily. “But you _do_ realize that you have to be able to draw the words on the cards? Hard to draw a dick if you’ve never seen one.”

Marik smacked his arm while Yugi said his name warningly, but the flood of color to Téa’s cheeks was well worth the looks of disapproval. Then she grinned back as she set to shuffling the words.

“Well, I suppose if I get that card I’ll just draw a picture of you.”

Marik and the others started laughing as Bakura’s smirk fell into a frown. Without another word, he got to his feet and stormed away toward the kitchen.

“Ah, come on!” Joey yelled. “You were asking for that!”

“Bakura, where are you going?” Marik called after him.

“To make some more fucking tea.”

But as he escaped into the relative peace of the linoleum floors and wooden cupboards, setting the kettle once again to boil, Bakura couldn’t help the slight smile that pulled at his lips.

 


End file.
